Hello, fellow warriors. If you’re a single mom staring down metastatic breast cancer like I am, you know the drill: chemo fog that turns your brain to mush, bone-deep fatigue that makes getting out of bed feel like climbing Everest, and those side effects—nausea, hair loss, the works—that pile on while you’re juggling school runs, bills, and trying to be “Mom” without a partner in the trenches. Some days, it’s all I can do not to scream, “What’s the point?” Why keep pushing when tomorrow feels like a cruel joke? But here’s what I’ve learned through my own messy journey: we can plan for tomorrow while fully embracing today. It’s not about ignoring the uncertainty; it’s about weaving hope into the chaos, one thread at a time.
Let’s start with the future—those big, audacious dreams that cancer tries to steal. I used to think bucket lists were for the healthy folks, the ones with endless tomorrows. But my friend, no. Even with scans looming and treatments sapping my energy, I’ve got mine listed in my to-do list: take my kids to Universal (done, even though it was a scaled-down version), take them paddleboarding (done, even though I had to rely on them more than I used to) start journaling about our story (which for some reason I keep procrastinating on) maybe even dip my toes in the ocean again. These aren’t pie-in-the-sky fantasies; they’re anchors. They remind me that metastatic doesn’t mean “terminal,” in means LIFE LONG. Science is advancing—new trials, targeted therapies—and while I can’t control the timeline, I can set goals that fuel my fight. For us single moms, this means practical stuff too: updating wills, planning college funds, or envisioning our kids’ graduations. It’s scary, admitting the “what ifs,” but it brings purpose. When fatigue hits hard, whispering, “This goal matters,” gets me through another round of meds.
But here’s the flip side: obsessing over tomorrow can rob us of today, and that’s where present-moment magic comes in. Living with this beast has taught me mindfulness isn’t some woo-woo luxury—it’s survival. On days when side effects floor me, I focus on the now: cheering on my high-schooler as he makes decisions for his future, savoring a hot cup of tea without rushing, or just breathing through the pain. It’s about small wins—making my mustard seed hearts even when I just feel like not moving, or laughing at my son’s silly jokes, and adoring his handsome face and his beautiful girlfriend. As single moms, we’re pros at multitasking, but cancer forces us to slow down. I’m starting a “gratitude jar”: notes on what made today okay. It shifts the lens from “I’m exhausted” to “I’m here, and that’s something.” Prayer and meditation help too—five minutes of time with God and guided breathing can cut through the fog.
The real hope sparks when we balance the two. Planning tomorrow infuses today with intention: that bucket-list trip motivates me to rest now, so I have energy later. Living presently makes those future dreams feel attainable, not distant. Uncertainty? It’s our constant companion, but it doesn’t define us. I’ve connected with other moms in support groups who’ve traveled post-diagnosis, started businesses amid chemo, or simply found joy in everyday resilience.
Sisters, if you’re struggling to see the point, know this: your efforts matter. Every treatment endured, every hug given, plants seeds of optimism for you and your kids. We cultivate purpose by honoring both tomorrow’s possibilities and today’s realities. It’s not easy, but it’s ours. Keep going—you’re not alone.
Three Bible verses to reflect on:
1. Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV):
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”
This verse speaks to holding onto hope for tomorrow, trusting that God has a purpose for you, even when treatments and fatigue make the future feel uncertain.
2. Psalm 118:24 (NIV):
“This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
It encourages embracing the present moment, finding joy in today’s small victories—like time with your kids—despite the challenges of illness.
3. Isaiah 40:31 (NIV):
“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
This offers comfort for enduring fatigue and side effects, reminding you that God’s strength can carry you through each day while keeping your eyes on hope.
Metastatic Hope 
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